


At Both Ends

by i_eat_men_like_air



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: (And Trans Author), Accidental Sex Therapists Dr. McDonald and Mr. Blanky, Auntie/Uncle Solidarity From McDonald And Blanky, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Collins’ Canonically Huge Dick, Comeplay, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Gentle Daddy!Blanky Cinematic Universe, Hand Jobs, Instructional Domination, M/M, Massage, Masturbation, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Penis In Vagina Sex, Polyamory, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Threesome - M/M/M, Trans!Harry Goodsir, Trans!Thomas Blanky, Vaginal Fingering, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:53:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29925432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_eat_men_like_air/pseuds/i_eat_men_like_air
Summary: Written for The Terror Bingo prompt 'Wax'.Harry Goodsir runs into Dr. McDonald and Mr. Blanky, and asks them for some advice regarding Mr. Collins. When their advice helps, he returns to Mr. Blanky, who offers a more hands-on approach to assisting the developing Collins/Goodsir relationship.McDonald also gives some 'assistance' to Collins, and Blanky has an exciting wax-based time with Goodsir and Collins.
Relationships: Harry D.S. Goodsir/Thomas Blanky/Alexander McDonald, Harry D.S. Goodsir/Thomas Blanky/Henry Foster Collins, Henry Foster Collins/Alexander McDonald, Thomas Blanky/Harry D. S. Goodsir
Comments: 16
Kudos: 11
Collections: The Terror Bingo





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Goodsir and Blanky's genitals are described using the words: prick, cunt, cock, cunny and cockstand.  
> Goodsir's chest is referred to neutrally as 'chest' or with Blanky observing the slight curve of it. He had body hair from his historically inaccurate T shots.  
> Blanky also uses the patented historically inaccurate T shots, and has also had historically inaccurate Victorian top surgery, as a treat.

It had been an odd evening. 

Blanky had been in sickbay with Doctor McDonald, his stump propped up on the examination table for the Scot to assess (healing well enough; he should be resting it more - all things he already knew), when Mr. Goodsir had stumbled through the door with a flustered, slightly dazed look on his face.

‘Easy there, lad!’ McDonald had chuckled, his face crinkling into his usual kindly smile, ‘whatever is the matter?’

Goodsir had blinked, as if he hadn’t noticed McDonald or Blanky, and it looked to Blanky as if the poor lad’s mind was in a hundred different places at once - all wide, dark eyes and shaking hands. It took him a moment to respond, doe eyes blinking repeatedly like one of those fancy zoetropes, and when he did it sounded as if he’d run a mile, ‘Oh - oh _!  _ \- my apologies Doctor McDonald, Mr. Blanky, sir. Goodness, I didn’t think anyone would be here at this hour, I was - oh, gosh - oh I  _ am _ sorry. I’ll return to my quarters, sorry, I -’

The lad stuttered to a halt, panting, those lovely dark curls plastered to his face from whatever exertion he seemed to have put himself through.

‘Ye look a right state, there, lad,’ Blanky had said, with an easy grin, ‘grab yerself a pew and take a breather, eh, or ye’ll do yerself an injury.’

Goodsir had nodded, still breathless, and sat heavily on one of the rickety chairs by McDonald’s desk, running his hands through his curls. Such a handsome lad, he was, all soft and warm looking in the low light of the sickbay. Blanky had cocked his head at McDonald, who had shrugged with an unworried, easy expression, like he was often presented with handsome, flustered young men who appeared on the verge of passing out. 

Perhaps he was? Blanky knew the doctor had a similar  _ condition  _ to himself, although he wasn’t sure of the specifics (he did  _ try _ not to pry, but his mam had said he was always one for gossip, even as a little lass). 

Goodsir’s breath was evening out a little, as he sat there, his shoulders no longer up ‘round his ears and his hands not so frantic. Blanky swung his stump off the table, so he was facing the lad, ‘Tell us what’s got yer knickers in such a twist, eh, Mr. Goodsir, no need to look so frantic.’

McDonald shook his head, his eyes glinting with curiosity (definitely  _ not _ the snifter of whisky they’d had just moments before) and a soft grin. His voice was warm and gentle as he spoke, ‘Nothing for you to worry about here, Harry, whatever happened?’

Goodsir sighed softly, sinking into the chair as if he were a punctured hot air balloon, his hands dangling between his legs, ‘You’ll tell no-one? Please?’ 

His voice was small, defeated, and Blanky and McDonald both frowned in concern, before nodding near-simultaneously.

‘Of course we’ll not tell anyone, lad, what’s the matter?’ McDonald had said, parking himself on the desk next to Goodsir and patting his shoulder reassuringly, sharing a private, worried look with Blanky.

‘I worry that I’m making a terrible fuss over nothing, is all, and I don’t want anyone to get into trouble,’ Goodsir had sighed, running his hands over his face, mussing up his whiskers.

‘Ah tell us lad, don’t work yerself up like that - s’not good for ye, is it doctor?’ Blanky said with a chuckle, winking at McDonald who nodded in sombre agreement.

‘Not good for you at all, Harry, and that’s my professional opinion. So, what happened?’

Goodsir took a deep, shuddering breath, before whispering something almost entirely incomprehensible. Blanky had leaned forwards, straining to hear what he was saying, but he didn’t quite catch it. However, judging by the look of surprise on McDonald’s face, the doctor  _ had _ heard what the lad had said.

Blanky looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a shake of his head - _ what did he say? _ \- and McDonald winked at him with a grin. 

‘He tried to kiss you, eh?’ the doctor said to Goodsir, with a conspiratorial look at Blanky, ‘who tried to kiss you, Harry? We’ll not get him in trouble if you don’t want us to, will we, Mr. Blanky?’

Blanky grunted his agreement, his curiosity well and truly piqued. He wondered who it could have been. Hickey was the obvious suspect, but Blanky doubted Goodsir would be so concerned for the nasty little bugger’s safety. Gibson, then? Jopson? 

He ran through his little list of the men he knew were of the same persuasion as himself and McDonald, but drew a blank. None of them seemed all that interested in the lad, as far as he knew (and Blanky made it a point to know a good deal), so when Goodsir mumbled out a name that made McDonald’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, Blanky’s brow furrowed. McDonald was almost as bad a gossip as himself, knowing most every sodomite on both ships like the back of his hand, so who the Hell had tried this on with the lad? 

‘ _ Mr. Collins?! _ ’ McDonald breathed out, his face a picture of surprise and intrigue as he looked up at Blanky, whose eyebrows promptly shot up as well.

_ Collins! _ Buggering hell. Blanky had seen the chap around a fair bit - a decent enough second, committed, hard-working, not particularly imaginative from what he could tell - and he hadn’t read him for one of their persuasion at all. He thought over the man - big broad shoulders, dark hair, dark eyes, little pout on his lips, crying his eyes out when that lad Orren had been taken to the depths - and could’ve kicked himself. Of course he was one of their lot. Of course he bloody was. 

Goodsir nodded, his face crumpling, wringing his hands.

‘Well, did ye want him to?’ Blanky asked with a grin, as McDonald patted the lad’s shoulder. 

Goodsir looked up at him sharply, a glint of iron in those dark, coppery eyes.

‘Excuse me, sir?’ the lad asked, frowning.

‘Did ye want him to mack on ye, lad? ‘Cause if ye did then why on God’s green Earth are ye sat here with us two old muckers?’

Goodsir’s eyes went wide and darted up to McDonald, who was nodding in sage, smiling agreement, ‘Aye, lad, Mr. Blanky’s got a point there. But only if you’ve an interest in him as well, of course.’

Goodsir was looking between them both as if he’d walked into the room expecting a chapel, but instead had found a circus; dark eyes wide with shock and confusion. 

‘Well I - gosh, I - I suppose I hadn’t even considered it! Oh goodness,’ Goodsir rubbed his hands across his face again, scrunching his eyes shut, with a sigh, ‘does it matter? I don’t know if it does, it’s - well - it’s  _ wrong _ !  _ And _ it’s against the Articles! I can’t just - just  _ kiss _ another man, for goodness’ sake!’

Goodsir threw his hands up in the air before letting them fall in his lap, exasperated. Blanky looked at McDonald - who was peering down at the lad with a mischievous expression - and chuckled, ‘Ah it’s not as bad as all that, lamb, half the bloody men on both ships are at it - Frank and young Captain Fitzjames included.’

Goodsir inhaled sharply, and McDonald gave his shoulder a squeeze, ‘Mr. Blanky’s correct, Harry, that sort of thing’s common enough on ships like ours; he would know.’

McDonald had looked over at Blanky with a wink and a shit-eating grin, and Blanky had tutted, ‘One thing o’ whisky and yer airing my dirty laundry, doctor, absolutely shameful.’

‘Oh come now, only to Harry, and he’s such a dear little thing,’ McDonald had paused, looking down at Goodsir with a soft expression, ‘you won’t tell anyone, will you Harry?’

Goodsir shook his head, his mouth opening and closing silently: goldfish-like, perplexed.

‘See, Tom, he won’t tell a soul. He’s a good lad, is our Harry,’ McDonald’s hand was resting at the nape of Goodsir’s neck as he spoke.

Blanky couldn't see his fingers, but he was sure they were playing with those lovely, dark curls. He  had shaken his head indulgently, ‘Yer a menace, Doctor McDonald.’

McDonald had smiled at him, soft, green eyes twinkling in amusement.

‘I think I wanted him to kiss me…’ Goodsir’s voice was so small that it took Blanky a minute to cotton on to what he’d said, but when he did he grinned down at the lad; kindly, wolfish.

‘Aye? Well then, pet, ye’d best get back to him, hadn’t ye?’ 

Goodsir had looked up at Blanky, then up at McDonald, a heartbreakingly nervous expression on his face, ‘Oh! Gosh, I suppose so, maybe, but I’ve never kissed anyone before, sir, what if I do it wrong? Goodness I’ve never even  _ considered  _ it...’

_ Christ _ . Blanky would have growled at that, if he hadn’t been concerned the lad would bolt from the room. 

‘Oh it’s not so hard, lad,’ McDonald had piped up, grinning over at Blanky, ‘here, allow a couple of old hands to demonstrate…’

With that, McDonald hopped down off the table - far too agile for a man of his height - and slinked over to Blanky with a mischievous waggle of his eyebrows, wrapping his arms around Blanky’s waist without so much as a word before giving him an absolute blinder of a kiss. 

Blanky snorted into it, cracking an eye open to see the poor lad’s reaction (eyes wide, leaning forwards, curious, excited), before giving as good as he got. He ran his teeth over McDonald’s lower lip, biting down firmly, and pulling the taller man closer so he slotted between his open legs. 

McDonald had gasped, pressing forwards and holding Blanky firmly against him; Blanky growled, giving himself over to the slow, lazy push and pull of lips and tongues and teeth until he heard a shuffling from where Goodsir was sitting. 

He pulled away, much to McDonald’s apparent annoyance (the man had begun to lick and bite at his neck when he turned his head, his cockstand pressing against the soft warmth of Blanky's crotch), to see Goodsir squirming in his chair, his big, soft eyes wide and unblinking. 

Blanky breathed heavily as McDonald had pulled open his collar and begun to suck a mark into the skin over his collarbone, and fixed his eyes on Goodsir, ‘D’ye want a go, pet? Want to see what ye’ve been missing?’ 

Goodsir had nodded, his mouth hanging open as Blanky beckoned him over and rested a hand on his sweat-damp, slightly flushed cheek. Blanky pulled McDonald off his neck and shoved him affectionately to one side with a grin, ‘Give the lad a chance you old tart.’

‘Less of the old, thank you,’ McDonald grinned back, winking at Goodsir, whose face immediately went bright red.

Blanky quirked an eyebrow with a laugh, and turned to Goodsir -  _ Harry, now, he should think of him as Harry _ \- with an easy smile, ‘C’mere then, lad,’ he gestured at his lap.

Harry nodded, shuffling to occupy the space left behind by McDonald and shivering as Blanky ran his hands over the slender expanse of his back.

‘Steady, lamb, pop yer arms up here, ey?’ Blanky moved Harry’s hands to rest on his shoulders, ‘and don’t look so scared, I’m not goin’ to hurt ye.’

Harry had nodded again, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction, and Blanky chuckled softly as he cupped the lad’s face in his hands and kissed him. His mouth was soft - sweet-tasting - and the slight scratch of his whiskers made for a lovely contrast. Blanky kissed him gently, pressing his tongue carefully to Harry’s lips until the lad opened up and let him in.

He hummed quietly against Harry - slowly wrapping his arms around the lad’s waist and pulling their bodies together. Harry whimpered, softly, as Blanky deepened the kiss, and Blanky grinned into his mouth as he felt the warmth at the front of the lad’s trousers. 

No hardness, which was a pleasant surprise (it was a rare treat to find a man with the same anatomy as himself), and Blanky cracked an eye open to see what McDonald was up to - he didn’t trust how quiet the man had become. He felt his pulse quicken a little when he found what he was looking for; the doctor had been leaning against the wall by the examination table, with a fond expression on his face, and a hand down the front of his trousers.

McDonald's hand was moving at a leisurely pace, stroking the slender length of his prick, his head resting against the wall. He had winked at Blanky, when he felt his eyes on him, and had pushed the opening of his trousers down to expose the blushing tip of his cockstand as it sat in his fist.

Blanky had rumbled in fond amusement, and Harry had pulled away with a questioning look, forehead sweaty and furrowed in concern, ‘Did I do something wrong, sir?’ 

‘Hm? Oh no, lamb, ye were doing a grand job,’ Blanky had brushed a thumb over his cheek with a grin, before gesturing over to McDonald, ‘only, I think our good doctor is getting a little ahead of us.’

Harry had looked over to where Blanky had pointed, and gasped softly. McDonald hummed softly as Harry’s eyes raked over his body, and Blanky had chuckled, ‘Bit of an exhibitionist, that one.’

McDonald shrugged, a mock-innocent expression colouring his handsome features as he pulled his hand from his trousers. His fingers had been wet, pre-ejaculate glittering under the lamplight, and Blanky had let out a growl as the doctor began to lick himself clean - small, precise flicks of his tongue, lapping up the slick - his eyes hungry, flicking between Harry and Blanky where they were positioned. 

Harry’s breath had quickened as he stared at the doctor, his eyes wide and disbelieving, and Blanky had grinned as McDonald swayed forwards, whisky-warm, and pressed his fingers - slowly, kindly - into the lad's mouth. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter of tasty Blanky/Goodsir, where Harry goes to Blanky seeking advice and gets a good seeing to.

The evening had continued down a similar route, culminating in all three men lying in a sweaty, panting heap on the floor, and with Harry seemingly reassured that he could kiss Mr. Collins with ease (and show the man a variety of other tricks, courtesy of Doctor McDonald’s incredibly active imagination and Blanky’s slightly more practical advice). 

Blanky didn’t expect the lad to return, to him or McDonald - sure he’d be well satisfied by Mr. Collins, big and handsome as the man was - but a few weeks later, out of the blue, he heard a soft, timid knock at his door. 

‘Come in!’ he barked, swinging his legs - such as they were - off of the bunk and heaving himself upright. 

The door slid open, slowly, to reveal the flushed, wide-eyed form of Harry Goodsir. 

Blanky grinned, his curiosity piqued once again by the slender lad, waving for him to come, ‘Shut the door behind ye, lamb, what can I do for ye?’

Harry did as he was bid, and leaned on the door with a sigh, ‘Sorry to disturb you at such a late hour, sir, if it would be better for me to return at another time then I’m sure I -’

‘Ah no time like the present, lad, and I ain’t too busy, as ye can see,’ Blanky interrupted with a smile, gesturing at the knitting he’d been working at (a new scarf for Frank, the idiot had vomited all over the last one he’d made, ruining it beyond even Jopson’s dedicated care), ‘have a sit beside an old man, tell me what ye need.’

Harry nodded, a brief, nervous movement, and shuffled to sit next to Blanky with a small smile. Blanky twisted himself around so he could get a good look at the lad. There was always an air of nerves around him, even when he should be at ease, as if he were expecting an enormous bird to swoop down and carry him off. Blanky understood, to a degree; men in their position had to be vigilant, but he still felt a twinge of sadness for the lad. If he would _relax_ a little, things might not seem so dreadful. 

‘I was talking to Henry - _Mr. Collins,_ sorry, sir - last night, sir. He and I have been quite happy, I think, and I’ve been meaning to thank you - and Doctor McDonald, of course - for being so understanding, and helping me with all of this and, well, sir -what I came here to discuss - sir, it’s,’ the lad paused for a moment, his words ticking over in his head so clearly that Blanky thought he could tell the time by them, ‘oh I feel ridiculous, it's just, well - he...he asked me about what I _like,_ sir…’

Harry’s voice trailed off at this, his brow creasing; Blanky thought that if he listened hard enough, he might be able to hear that ticking noise.

‘Oh? How’d ye mean, lamb?’ Blanky had an inkling, of course, but he was curious to see how the lad put it; his eyes twinkled as he looked at Harry, waiting for the lad to answer. 

Harry blinked, sighing and shaking his head at Blanky, ‘In a - you know, you’re a devil, Mr. Blanky, sir - in an _intimate_ manner, so to speak. He seems a great deal more experienced than I in these matters and I can’t help but feel a fool for being so - well, so worked up about such a simple question, but I just don’t _know_ , sir. How on Earth _would_ I know?’

Blanky patted the lad’s arm, reaching to the little folding table by the side of his bunk and grabbing his pipe, packing it with tobacco and gesturing for him to continue with a grin; he had an idea of where this was going. 

‘I wish I wasn’t so worried about this, sir; I feel like some sort of blushing young lady, and I’m not even sure why I even came to talk to you,’ Harry sighed, running his hands through his hair in quiet frustration, ‘Doctor McDonald is busy, and I don’t really have anyone else to talk to about such matters, if you get my meaning.’

Blanky nodded, lighting up his pipe and taking a long, slow draw - holding the sweet smoke in his lungs before exhaling and grinning over at Harry, ‘Well, what does yer man Henry _like_ , then, lamb? Has he told ye?’

Harry blinked, nodding, his curls bouncing softly and casting lovely little shadows over his face. He was such a handsome lad.

‘He’s told me a few things, sir, nothing I’ve ever tried you understand, but a few things…bits and pieces...’ Harry’s voice was quiet now, and Blanky hummed, trying not to chuckle at the poor lad; he couldn’t remember a time when he himself had been this nervous, even as a young man, but he supposed Harry had his reasons. All men did, in the end. 

‘Care to share ‘em with an old man, eh? Might give ye some ideas to talk out loud,’ Blanky puffed on his pipe, a mischievous grin spreading over his features, ‘and ye know I’ve been around a fair bit, lamb, so perhaps I could give ye some ideas as well.’

He winked at Harry, who blushed a lovely shade of pink and chuckled softly, ‘Perhaps you could, sir, although I’m really not sure where to begin...’

Blanky listened, injecting a grunt or a chuckle as needed, as Harry set to describing the things that Henry Collins took an interest in. There was nothing particularly out of the box there, and Blanky felt his face grow bland with disappointment (he’d been hoping for something outrageous to share with McDonald when they next saw one another) until Harry reached the end of the little list and said:

‘Oh! And he mentioned something about candles, sir, or the wax, to be specific. I wasn’t entirely sure as to what he meant but it, but he seemed to be quite enthused by the idea.’

Blanky’s eyebrows crept up his forehead, and he grinned. Now that _was_ interesting. Not the strangest thing he’d ever heard, not by a long shot, but it was definitely more up his own (often niche) alley than the rest of Mr. Collins’ fairly standard proclivities.

‘Oh aye? And how about ye, lamb? D’ye fancy givin’ that a go?’ Blanky watched Harry carefully as he asked, smirking as the lad rolled the idea around his head.

‘Well, in all honesty sir I’m not sure what wax has to do with things of this nature, but Henry _did_ become rather - rather _interested_ when he mentioned it, you see,’ Harry looked at Blanky with a soft smile, shrugging as he spoke.

Blanky chuckled quietly, puffing on his pipe, and clapped Harry on the back, resting his hand where it fell, ‘Well, lamb, will allow an old man to fill ye in?’

Harry murmured his consent and Blanky grinned, wolfishly, ‘So, have ye ever spilled wax on yerself? Or dipped yer finger in the old tallow at the base of a candle?’

‘Once or twice, sir, I think?’

‘Aye? And how did that feel for ye?,’ Blanky rubbed his hand slowly over Harry’s shoulders as he tensed up, and he grinned as the lad sighed into the feeling, his eyes closing softly, ‘indulge an old man his questions, eh?’

‘Warm, I suppose, sir. I spilled a candle on myself as a lad, and that was rather sore, from what I can recall, but only for a moment. It hardened quite rapidly, I think, forming an odd sort of crust over my skin…it was still warm though, nice and warm...’ Harry hummed softly as Blanky rubbed his shoulders, leaning against him with a gentle look on his face.

‘Nice and warm, eh? Bet ye were a right pretty thing as a lad, standin’ there all covered in candle wax, hm?’

Harry gasped softly, long, dark eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, and Blanky grinned; Henry Collins ought to be on his knees thanking him for this service (Blanky considered that the big lad might look quite lovely on his knees).

‘Now, have ye let Mr. Collins bugger ye yet, lamb? Felt his seed in that lovely little cunny of yers?’

Harry nodded, swaying slightly, a charming flush colouring his cheeks, ‘ _Oh_ yes sir, I have, sir - _oh.._.’

‘Enjoy the feel of it, did ye? Now, I bet that were all nice and warm, too. Bet he filled that little cunt to burstin’ didn’t he, lamb; I’m sure he’s got a nice fat yard on him, does yer Mr. Collins,’ Blanky leaned a little closer to Harry, whispering filth into his ear. 

Harry nodded again, and he whimpered as Blanky ran his tongue over the shell of his ear, ‘ _Oh he does, sir, he does - oh…_ ’ 

Blanky chuckled, licking and sucking gently at the bare patch of skin between the lad’s whiskers and his hairline, 'An' I'm sure his spend is all nice and warm in ye when he's had his way, eh? Lovely and warm inside ye, hm? Or maybe all over that lovely little chest ye've got hidden under yer shirt...'

Such an eager thing, was Harry, all soft whines and sweet-smelling curls as Blanky spoke, so easily picked apart. He spared a thought for McDonald; poor bugger didn’t know what he was missing.

‘I reckon ye’d look right pretty with wax all over ye, hm? Let yer Mr. Collins cover ye from top to toe while you suck on that bonny prick of his or take him in yer cunt, all lovely and warm like…’ 

Harry whimpered, a little louder now, resting his head against Blanky’s shoulder and opening his eyes, staring up at him with a dazed, warm expression, the slender lines of his thighs clenching together.

‘Y’alright there, lamb?’ Blanky grinned, setting his pipe down and reaching to stroke along the line of the lad’s whiskers.

‘Goodness but you have a way with words, Mr. Blanky…’ a whisper of a Scottish lilt crept into Harry’s voice as he leaned against Blanky. 

Blanky chuckled, pressing a kiss into the mess of curls at his shoulder, ‘Aye, lad, got me in trouble so much I reckoned I could use it for somethin’ more enjoyable than bein’ berated by officers.’

Harry laughed quietly, twisting his head to press a kiss to Blanky’s cheek, ‘Aye I’m sure it got you in all sort of trouble, sir.’

There was a glint in Harry’s eye as he spoke, something that Blanky had noticed during that evening in sickbay; the lad wasn’t as soft as he seemed. 

‘Oh all sorts, lamb, pop yerself up here and I’ll show ye, if ye like?’ Blanky grinned, shuffling back.

Harry shivered, thighs twitching, and he nodded slowly as he positioned himself at the foot of the bed as directed; legs spread wide. 

‘Now, I’ll need ye to stay quiet, lamb, can ye do that for me?’

Harry nodded, eyes wide and liquid-dark as he watched Blanky.

‘Good lad, now, scoot those trousers down for me, eh, show me the state of ye,’ Blanky watched closely as Harry unbuttoned his trousers and pushed them down; it had been all fingers and hands in sickbay, and he was intrigued to see the state he’d worked the lad into.

He was not disappointed, and let out a low, soft whistle of appreciation as Harry shuffled out of his underclothes, baring himself. Soft, pink folds covered with thick, dark hair that trailed down to the cleft of his arse; little red cockstand poking out of the fur, all of him slick and hot and sweet to look at.

Blanky bared his teeth, repositioning himself with a dark chuckle and allowing himself a quick press of his palm against his own prick, relieving a little of the pressure, ‘ _Ye Gods_ , look at ye lad, yer dripping already…’

Harry whimpered, his eyes wide, pleading and questioning as he looked at Blanky, ' _S_ _ir_ …’

‘Ah easy there, lamb, open yerself up for me, eh. Spread yerself open and let me have a look,’ Blanky all but growled, licking his lips in anticipation.

Harry nodded, shuddering, and leaned back, spreading his legs as wide as they would go.

‘Use yer fingers as well, pet, c’mon; open up, show me how pretty ye are.’

Harry gulped, his eyes nervous and sweet, before taking one hand and slowly (ever so slowly) spreading himself until his pink, twitching cunt was exposed in its entirety. His fingers played softly over his prick, teasing at his folds with a soft, wet sound; a line of slick glistening between his fingertips as he spread himself open for Blanky.

‘ _Christ_ lad if ye could see yerself…’ Blanky breathed out, ‘prettiest thing I’ve seen in a long fuckin’ time. D’ye want my mouth on ye, then? Want me to suck that pretty cock of yers?’

Harry nodded frantically, curls bouncing, grinding his hips towards Blanky with a whine, ‘ _Please - oh God - please, sir, please…_ ’ 

Blanky grinned, rolling onto his stomach and shuffling forwards until his face was inches away from the lad’s cunt. He pressed the heel of his hand against Harry’s, keeping him pinned open - soft, wet, mouthwatering specimen that he was - and leaned forwards to have a taste.

Harry bucked up towards him immediately, swallowing a shout as Blanky licked a broad stripe across his cunt.

He pressed the tip of his tongue firmly at the base of Harry’s prick, teasing upwards as the lad shivered against him, flicking it off of the tip with a rumbling chuckle. _Such a delicate little lamb, easy as sin to take apart_.

It wasn’t long before Harry was writhing against him, careful hands now tangling in Blanky’s hair as he ground against his mouth. Blanky lapped at his cunt, grinning, sucking his prick into his mouth, and massaging his tongue against the pulsing little pearl; humming happily as he pulled all sorts of sweet, muffled noises out of the lad. 

‘ _Good Lord,_ oh _God_ … _God..._ ’ Harry whispered above him, his hips bucking up against Blanky’s mouth.

Blanky chuckled, pulling the lad’s cunt open with a thumb on either side, pushing his tongue firmly into the hot, wet channel and groaning as Harry’s slender thighs gripped down on his head; a whimper coming from that plush, warm mouth of his. 

‘Ye taste like a dream, pet,’ Blanky murmured, tracing his fingertips around the soft, furred opening in front of him, pinching softly at Harry’s twitching cockstand, ‘just like a dream…’

Harry whimpered softly - a noise that made Blanky’s own cunt throb in his trousers - his hands coming away from Blanky’s head and clutching at the blanket as Blanky pressed his fingers into him, followed quickly by his tongue. Blanky stretched and teased at the lad’s cunt, rubbing his thumb firmly over his prick in small, assured circles, until he was whimpering absolute nonsense; nothing that Blanky could make out but _‘please’_ and _‘God_ ’ and Blanky’s own name.

Harry’s crisis rose softly, sweetly, a swell of a wave, and Blanky was rewarded with a flood of wetness coating his tongue and fingers where they rubbed at the hot slick of the lad’s cunt and cock when he reached his peak. He grinned as Harry’s softly furred thighs clenched on either side of his head, holding him in place and riding out his crisis as Blanky lapped at his prick, gentling the lad until his body grew limp where it lay. 

Blanky groaned, still grinning, as Harry shivered above him, and shoved a hand down the front of his trousers, frigging himself with his head still all but buried in the lad’s hot, twitching cunny. 

He tugged himself to a grunting, growling release with well-practiced ease; living on ships most of his life had given him ample opportunity to learn how to bring himself off at speed, when needed. And _God_ he needed. The musky, damp smell of the lad’s cunt still coated his face, pushing all rational thought from his head, if only for a blissful, blinding moment. 

He bit down on Harry’s thigh as he spent, grinding his cock against his fingers as the lad whimpered - _God it was so easy to wring those wet, filthy noises from him_. Blanky exhaled softly, leaning his head against Harry’s thigh with a satiated grin. He looked up at Harry, who was staring down at him with hazy, wide eyes.

‘How’s that for a show then, sweetheart?’ he rumbled, kissing his way up Harry’s body until he could press their mouths together, drawing a sweet moan from the lad as he did so.

Harry’s body was heaving gently against his own, still coming down from his release, and Blanky grinned as he felt the swell of the lad’s chest against his hand where it lay. He’d almost forgotten what it was like, having those parts of your body still attached, and he felt a twitch of sadness for the lad. It’d be a good long while until they got home and he could be rid of the damn things, if he wished. 

Harry sighed into his mouth, warm, gentle breath tracing a path over Blanky’s teeth and tongue, ‘I don’t think I have the words, sir…’ he smiled bashfully at Blanky, who ran a gentle thumb over his lower lip with a chuckle. 

‘Aye? Well I’ll take that as a compliment, then.’

Harry laughed softly (such a gentle sound) and shuffled down so his head was resting on Blanky’s chest, throwing an arm over him with a satisfied hum. Blanky pressed a kiss to those lovely, sweat-damp curls, breathing in the sweet-musk-soap scent with a smile. 

He waited for a while, enjoying the peace and the warmth of the lad’s body against his own, before giving in to the little, curious glint at the back of his mind, ‘D’ye think ye’ll give it a go with Mr. Collins then, the wax?’ 

Harry looked up at him with a sleepy grin, and shrugged, ‘Aye, I think so, sir, though I might ask you to give us a show, first; seen as you know all about these things,' he nipped at Blanky's chin, teasing, gentle, 'and seen as you're ever so talented, sir.'

Blanky swatted him gently on the arse, ruffling his hair with a wide, curious grin, rolling the prospect over with barely concealed interest, ‘Oh aye, pet? Ye want an old man to interfere with yer relations already?’

‘It’s not interfering if I ask first, sir,’ Harry sniffed, his eyes glinting mischievously, ‘and I know Henry would be interested as well, if you’re amenable?’

Blanky raised an eyebrow at that. He hadn’t read Mr. Collins to be the sharing type - or the adventurous type - but then he hadn’t read him as a sodomite either. Maybe the chap was better at hiding his interests than Blanky had given him credit for. 

‘Amenable, lad? To join in on such an _interesting_ venture with two handsome young lads such as yerselves?’ Blanky scoffed, a hungry grin passing over his face, ‘I should bloody well think I am.’


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry Collins gets the patented Alexander McDonald Treatment™.

Henry Collins had been bunking on Terror for the last few nights. He wasn’t much needed on Erebus these days, and MacBean was over there a fair amount anyway (he had few friends on Terror, but a handful of them on Erebus) if something were to go horribly wrong. 

He much preferred it on Terror, in truth. It was where Harry was, after all; sweet, kind, handsome Harry, who he fell head over heels for the first time he’d laid eyes on him. It had been a few weeks now, since Henry’s fumbling, shaking attempt to kiss Harry had caused the doctor to bolt from the room and re-appear several hours later; jumping on top of him like a wild animal. 

The darkness that filled his thoughts was not all the way gone - he doubted it ever would be - but the soft, bright lighthouse of Harry Goodsir had done more for his state of mind than any curt, stern advice from Doctor Stanley. 

That was the second reason he preferred it on Terror. Now Harry was bunking there, working with the Netsilik girl on his dictionary, it meant he could work with Doctor McDonald - a significantly kinder, gentler man than Erebus’ doctor (Henry rarely, if ever, saw Doctor Peddie, and couldn’t really understand why the man was even aboard the ship; McDonald did all of the work, as far as he could tell). This, in turn, meant Henry spent a decent amount of his time in sickbay, watching the two men work and chatting with them when he had the time.

Watching them both was a balm for his thoughts in itself; both men were so kind, and considerate, and awfully handsome as well. McDonald with his tall, broad frame; the dimples in his cheeks that appeared when he smiled; his firm, steady hands. Harry with his far slighter frame; curls that were growing long enough to fall over his face in a most charming manner; wide, twinkling eyes that always managed to find Henry, no matter how busy he was. 

McDonald knew about the two of them as well, which made for a refreshing sense of calm whenever Henry spoke to him. He had been so careful to hide his nature over the years, pressing down on it like a wound - praying it wouldn’t split any further, praying it would fade - but now, with Harry, and McDonald, he had been able to lessen the pressure. He could simply  _ be _ , rather than shrinking to invisibility, or flying into a terrified flurry, whenever that part of himself was near-exposure. 

The kind, soft warmth that McDonald exuded had been a blessing for Henry. He had been so terrified of Dr. Stanley that he had soon come to avoid sickbay all together, no matter what had happened, and no matter how black his thoughts became. He had a nasty scar up his right leg where Wall had knocked a burning pan onto the floor, and he’d had the misfortune of rushing past it. The fear he felt at going to sickbay quickly bypassed the pain of it, and he had been reduced to tears in his berth as he tried to clean the scalding grease from the wound.

McDonald had asked to see it, when he had mentioned the incident, but even then Henry had balked at the idea. It was only after Harry had chastised him (before heading off on his own to consult Mr. Blanky about some undisclosed issue) that he had returned to sickbay, where he now found himself sitting: trousers and longjohns pulled off (with only his underpants for modesty), watching McDonald poke and prod at the barely-healed scar. 

‘Well, Mr. Collins, it’s not as bad as I feared, but you really ought to have gone to see Stephen about this,’ the doctor murmured, pressing on a particularly tender spot that made Henry hiss.

‘Stephen, sir?’ Henry didn’t know of a man named Stephen on Erebus, or Terror.

McDonald looked up at him, a gently confused expression colouring his handsome face, which then broke into a kind smile, ‘Doctor Stanley, lad! Stephen’s his Christian name, thought I suppose you wouldn’t know it. And he’s really not as bad as he seems, just a bit brisk.’

Henry made a face at that, his mouth twisting in disbelief. Maybe McDonald hadn’t seen the state of the man recently; it seemed as if every waking morning made him angrier. 

McDonald laughed again, patting him gently on the thigh, ‘Ah I know, lad, but it’s better to see a doctor - even one like Stephen - than to see no doctor at all, particularly with a burn as bad as this. It’s a miracle it didn’t get infected.’

Henry shrugged, resting his hands in his lap, ‘I’ve had injuries before, sir, just kept a bandage on it is all, cleaned it whenever I had my wash.’

He wasn’t sure what else to say, silently watching as McDonald checked the rest of the wound over with a look of gentle concentration; large, careful hands pressing at the sore flesh and holding his leg in place as he worked. Henry sighed softly as the doctor’s fingers moved a little higher up his thigh, gently pressing into the sturdy muscle and twisting his leg to look at the underside of the scarring. 

McDonald hummed happily as he set Henry’s leg down, resting a hand on his thigh with a kind smile, ‘Well, lad, it all looks well enough - though if it starts hurting again you must come and let me know, aye?’

Henry nodded, dumbly looking at the hand on his leg. Broad palm, long fingers - sturdy but delicate. He looked up with a start and swallowing heavily as he met McDonald’s eyes - soft, green-grey, a flicker of heat in them. Henry swallowed, looking away; not wanting to meet that warm, soft gaze lest he do something foolish. 

‘How’re you and Harry getting along, lad?’ McDonald asked, softly, perching on the examination table so he was facing Henry.

Henry blinked, fumbling for an answer for a moment before speaking, ‘Very well, sir, thank you. I’m terribly fond of him.’

McDonald - his hand still resting on Henry’s naked thigh - hummed with a smile, ‘Good. That’s good, lad, he seems right happy with you as well, bless him. Such a sweet little thing.’

‘That he is, sir,’ Henry nodded sincerely, a smile drifting over his face as he thought of Harry, ‘he’s more than I deserve, in truth.’

McDonald frowned (even that was a handsome expression on him, Henry thought with a sigh), ‘What on Earth do you mean, lad? And call me Alex for goodness’ sake, eh? No need for formalities down here.’

‘Alex, then,’ Henry nodded with a small, uncomfortable smile; he’d never had to explain this sort of thing before. Nobody had ever asked. 

‘C’mon, lad, what’s on your mind?’ Alex’s face softened, reassuring, ‘let’s see if we can sort this out, eh?’

His hand was warm and gentle on Henry’s thigh, no pressure or urgency to it - just resting, telling Henry he was still there, that he wasn’t going to leave. Henry sighed, his head suddenly heavy, his back feeling as if he had walked the width of the Arctic. Alex hopped up on the table beside him, shuffling ‘round so his back was leaning against the wall the same as Henry’s, and raised an arm - his eyes quietly questioning.

Henry leaned into him immediately, resting his head against the doctor’s chest and exhaling - his breath ragged. 

‘There you are, lad. Now, tell me what the matter is, hm? I’ll see if I can help,’ Henry could feel the man’s voice vibrate through his chest, and he leaned into it, pressing his face against Alex until he could hear the gentle, steady rhythm of his heartbeat. 

‘I’m not even sure where to begin,’ Henry sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, ‘Harry’s just - please don’t think me an idiot - he’s just so much  _ better _ than I am. He knows so much about everything, and he’s always so kind, and he’s so much  _ brighter _ than I am, you know? I feel as if I’m a great, lumbering rain cloud just hanging over him, and he’s this lovely, shining little sunspot. I’ve always felt that for him, I suppose, but now knowing he’s fond of me has brought it all into focus.’

Henry leaned into Alex with a groan, ‘And then I feel like an idiot for thinking such things. Harry has said he’s fond of me, more than once, and he keeps saying how he cares for me over and over again, and  _ then _ I feel like a burden for worrying him. It’s just this big, horrible circle and I feel as if I’m trapped at the centre of it.’

Alex squeezed him gently, firm, strong arms wrapped around him and pulling him close. Henry let himself be pulled, relishing the sensation of being a small, cared-for thing, inhaling the warm, musky scent of the doctor with a sigh. 

‘I don’t think you’re an idiot, dear Henry, far from it, hm? But I know how much you care for Harry, it’s as plain as that lovely nose on your face,’ Alex chuckled, kindly, ‘and believe me, lad, he’s absolutely mad for you. No amount of rain will dampen that, y’know.’

Henry shrugged, as best he could in his position, and grunted noncommittally. He wanted to believe the doctor’s words. Truly he did. But  _ Good Christ _ it was difficult. How could he possibly be so sure about these things?

When he asked, Alex simply shrugged, ‘I have eyes, pet, and Harry’s spoken to me a wee bit about you; he’s absolutely off his rocker for you, poor thing. You can do no wrong in his eyes, you know?’

‘He’s spoken to you about me?’ Henry flinched a little at the idea; terrified as to what Harry might have said.

‘Oh aye, naught but praise for you at all hours of the day and night!’ Alex chuckled, no hint of irritation or malice in his voice, no hint that he might find Henry an inconvenience or an annoyance, ‘it’s lovely, truth be told, hearing him chatter on. All sorts of things, he says.’

Henry twitched, looking up, startled at the honey that had dripped into the doctor’s tone, ‘What sort of things?’

Alex looked down at him, green-grey eyes twinkling in the lamplight, smirking softly. Henry gulped, nervous as to what Harry might have told the man.

‘Oh all sorts, pet. Sweet, kind things; funny little stories about the pair of you; all your likes and dislikes, and, well,’ Alex leaned down, until his mouth was at Henry’s ear, ‘some things that made me turn quite red, if you get my drift.’

Henry blinked up at him, mouth agape. He knew of Harry’s escapade with Alex and Blanky, and he didn’t mind it at all, but the thought of Harry discussing their more intimate moments made his heart thump a jig in his ribcage. He felt a warmth creeping up his chest, colouring his face, and sat up slowly so he was facing the man. 

Alex cocked his head - still smirking - his eyes teasing and glinting as he followed Henry’s movements, ‘I’m assuming he told you about our little encounter, along with Mr. Blanky, hm?’

Henry nodded, heart still racing.

‘Did he give you any details, pet? Did he tell you what we did to him, hm?’ Alex leaned into Henry, fingers brushing carefully over his whiskers before taking a gentle hold on them, pulling their faces closer together.

Henry shook his head. Harry hadn’t given any details about the ‘encounter’, save that he entered sickbay unsure of how to even kiss a man, and that he exited a while later with a solid idea of how to do that, and a fair bit more. 

‘I can tell you, if you like?’ Alex’s lips brushed against Henry’s, a whisper of a kiss, ‘or, better yet, I can show you?’

Henry nodded, silent, struck dumb, and moaned softly as Alex kissed him. Warm, soft, sweet-tasting lips pressed against his own - chaste, gentle, no urgency or concern. Henry felt his prick twitch as Alex’s tongue pressed softly into his mouth; small, firm strokes opening him up until their mouths were locked together. He wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist, pulling him closer, and a growl shuddered through him as he felt the doctor’s prick press against his leg; hardening slowly, surely.

Alex hummed softly into his mouth, sucking firmly on his lower lip, and Henry shivered; was this how he had kissed Harry? Steady, certain, so thorough that Henry thought he might weep?

Henry whimpered as Alex pulled away; the loss of that warm, wet mouth was almost unbearable, and gasped as the doctor’s hand trailed up his thigh.

‘Let’s see what we’re working with then, hm?’ Alex murmured, nosing at Henry’s whiskers as his hand continued its tortuously slow journey towards his prick - now at full mast, aching, twitching, against his underclothes. 

Henry bit down on his bottom lip as Alex’s hand reached its destination and squeezed. He opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) to see the doctor’s eyebrows raise, and a curious smirk light up his face.

‘Well, well, well, Mr. Collins,’ Alex purred, ‘what  _ do _ we have here?’

Henry whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and balling his hands into fists against the table. He was well aware of his size, and he felt his cheeks flush as Alex peeled his underclothes away with a gentle gasp.

‘ _ Oh _ ,’ Alex breathed out, his voice kind, reverent, not mocking as Henry had feared it might be, ‘ _ oh _ look at you, lad, our Harry’s a lucky boy isn’t he?’

Henry jerked as Alex’s fingers traced 'round the head of his prick, teasing at the foreskin and rolling the skin slowly away from the sensitive crown. Every part of his body was dull, now, except that iron-hard creature between his legs, throbbing against those firm, curious fingers.

Alex circled the tip of him gently, tapping at Henry’s slit and playing with the pearlescent string of slick that his finger picked up, precariously connecting their bodies like spider silk, ‘Such a lucky boy, eh? To have a man like you? All soft and gentle, with a prick that could split him in half…’

Henry felt his body tense as Alex spoke, but the man didn’t stop, seemingly intent on making him fall apart as he began to frig him, long, firm strokes; rolling the foreskin easily and holding it steady at the middle of him; squeezing at the tip and pressing the joint of his thumb firmly beneath his crown in a manner that made Henry see stars.

‘Lucky Harry, hm? Sweet, pretty Harry, so eager to please. He was so nervous to kiss you, y’know. Shaking like a leaf, but Mr. Blanky and I took him in hand, see? Wasn’t too long ‘til I had my fingers 'round that lovely little prick of his. So terribly sensitive, isn’t he, Henry?’ Alex murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to Henry’s lips, moving so his tongue could play at the bare skin of Henry’s neck, his hand speeding up a fraction.

Henry nodded, quivering, thrusting up into Alex’s fist; Harry  _ was _ sensitive, incredibly, beautifully sensitive.

Alex hummed, grinning against Henry’s neck, ‘Aye he is, frigged him just like this, y’know, all slow and gentle like.’

Henry groaned as Alex’s hand slowed, his wrist twisting gently as he rolled Henry’s prick in his fist, foreskin slick and easily manipulated as he moved.

‘Made him spend just like this, pet, poor thing was so sweet and quick about it; lost all of his sense for a wee while, ‘til Mr. Blanky took a hold of him…’ Alex chuckled, softly, ‘and Mr. Blanky isn’t quite as gentle as myself.’

Henry whimpered; he could imagine what Blanky was like - all calloused hands and rough words, eyes gleaming as he used his hand on Harry, frigging him insensate. 

‘Such lovely hands, has Mr. Blanky, and your Harry seemed to thoroughly enjoy them,’ Alex’s hand began to speed up on Henry’s prick, filling sickbay with slick, obscene sounds, ‘ _ oh _ he was all but crying on Mr. Blanky’s fingers, y’know? Begging for his crisis, bless his heart. Have you heard him beg, Henry? It’s such a sweet sound…’

Henry nodded, frantic; Harry was obscenely vocal, he would talk and talk, voice shaking like a baby bird, fluttering, helpless, open, until Henry made him spend. He was beautiful, such a beautiful, soft, kind man; Henry felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

‘Aye it’s lovely, isn’t it, and wi’ such a sweet prick as this I’m sure ye can bring him to it with ease,’ Alex’s accent was thick, now, his breath hot against Henry’s face, ‘such a handsome thing, aren’t ye, pet? Sweet, handsome lad, all kind and worrisome,  _ and  _ wi’ such a lovely yard on ye? Just a treat. Bet our Harry feels right good ‘round yer prick as he spends, eh?’

Henry whimpered into Alex’s hair, leaning down and desperately trying to muffle the noises the man was pulling from his chest. 

‘All warm an’ wet, I bet, eh? Slick, lovely little cunny to go wi’ that lovely, sensitive little prick of his. Such a sweet boy for ye, I bet, so well behaved as he bounces his’self on that bonny yard o’ yers, God he must be so tight around ye, all hot an’ slick an’...’

Henry cut him off with a cry, pressing his mouth against Alex’s scalp as his crisis crashed into him. It was too much: Alex’s fist twisting at his crown, Alex’s voice; all the filth he was talking; all rising and rising and dragging him to release, lightning-hot pleasure crackling up his spine as his vision blurred, and his skin tingled, and his limbs grew lax. 

Alex stroked him through it softly, gently whispered praise barely reaching Henry’s mind as he floated back down to himself. Such a kind, low voice, reeling him back to his body and holding him steady, keeping him in place until he could open his eyes.

There was a warm, wet feeling against his thigh, and Henry blinked as he realised it was Alex’s spend. When had that happened? When had he pulled his prick out? How hadn’t he noticed?

Alex was looking at him - all patience and understanding - with a warm, easy smile; broad hands stroking over Henry’s stomach (coated in Henry’s spend) and Henry’s thigh, their seed mingling strangely. 

‘Made a right painter’s palette of you, lad,’ Alex chuckled, kind, bright eyes meeting Henry’s gaze, ‘all mixed together, eh?’

Henry followed Alex’s fingers as he brought them to his mouth, licking at the mix of their releases with a satisfied moan, ‘Lovely, lad, just lovely…’

Alex leaned forwards, just as Henry leaned forwards to kiss him, and their noses bumped in the middle, causing Henry to blush, furiously. Alex chuckled, no hint of discomfort or awkwardness in the sound, and maneuvered Henry’s face by his whiskers until they could kiss with ease.

Henry moaned, quietly, into the kiss, eagerly lapping up the taste of his and Alex’s spend. He had understood why Harry was so fond of the man before this evening, but now he felt that understanding on a far deeper level; everything he did held such tenderness, such easy calm. He was a warm, soothing creature; a nip of whisky and a hot meal on a cold day. 

Henry smiled at him, as the doctor pulled away, trying to think of anything he could say, to thank him for this. Alex smiled in return, tucking his prick back into his trousers and shuffling around until he was resting next to Henry once more, both their backs against the wall. 

Alex raised his arm, again welcoming Henry into a soft, careful embrace, and Henry leaned happily against his chest; warm, syrupy peace covering him like a blanket. 

‘I know it can be hard, pet, but if there’s one thing you needn’t worry about losing, it’s our Harry. He’ll stick with you ‘til the end of it all, I reckon,’ Alex’s voice was soft, and Henry nodded gently against his chest.

‘I’ll try, sir, I will. God I’d stay with him ‘til I die, y’know; ‘til after I die, even,’ Henry felt Alex squeeze him tightly as he spoke, firm, strong arms acting as an anchor in this strange place.

‘Aye, well that’s all I can ask, I suppose, and don’t you worry, lad, I know. And our Harry knows it too,’ Alex pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

The pair of them sat quietly for a while, the peace of an empty sickbay swelling around them - a calm, gentle lake. Henry couldn’t measure how long they sat in silence but then, even when Alex spoke, it was with a voice that married well with the calm of the room.

‘Let’s clean you up, eh, pet? Then you can go get some rest. How does that sound?’

Henry nodded, letting the doctor shuffle off the table and move him around as he desired; he felt as if his body had turned to clay - heavy, slow, sticky - and he leaned against Alex as he picked up a rag and cleaned the seed from his body. 

‘Much better, eh?’ Alex stood before him, a hand on either side of Henry’s face, with a kind, crinkling smile.

Henry nodded, smiling shyly in return; he wasn’t used to being the one who was looked after. It was nice.

‘Thank you, sir,’ Henry blushed, realising his voice was quite hoarse and coughing, trying to clear his throat, ‘thank you.’

Alex wrapped his arms around Henry’s neck, and kissed him gently, his eyes twinkling, ‘Ah the pleasure’s all mine, lad, and you know where to find me if you need anything more, hm?’

Henry nodded again, bashful, grinning.

‘Aye, good, now off you pop, hen. Get some rest, else you’ll be a right state in the morning.’

Henry pulled on his longjohns and trousers, and his boots, swaying a little as he stood. Alex looked him up and down slowly, appreciatively, straightening his jumper and handing him his jacket with a wink and a kiss on the cheek, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, lad, you have a good sleep, now.’

Henry nodded, murmuring his thanks again, kissing the doctor clumsily as he left. He would go and find Harry now, before he went back to his berth; they had a lot to talk about.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for WAX! Finally! The Blanky/Collins/Goodsir chapter.

It was a while until Blanky heard that tell-tale knock on his door again - gentle, curious - despite Harry knowing full well he was welcome in Blanky’s quarters any time of the day or night. Blanky grinned, limping over to the door and grinning at the sight that greeted him. 

There was Harry, with the sweet, shy smile on his face, and behind him, looming a little despite the gentle expression on his face, was Henry Collins. 

‘Well come on in, lads, no use standing out in the cold, eh?’ Blanky chuckled as the two of them shuffled past him, giving Harry a pat on the arse as he went by, and winking up at Collins, whose face promptly went bright red. 

Blanky wedged the door shut when they were in, jamming an old boot in the little gap so they’d have some warning if anyone tried to get in. He turned with a broad smile, looking carefully at the two men. Harry had already kicked off his boots, and was sitting cross-legged on Blanky’s bed. Henry, bless his heart, was still standing, back straight, blinking rapidly.

‘Easy there, Mr. Collins,’ Blanky patted him on the shoulder, shoving past him with a grin and sitting down (he was an old man with one leg, and this was his berth; he’d have to be seated for whatever Harry had planned), ‘try not to hurt yerself ‘fore we’ve even begun, eh?’

Harry laughed quietly, reaching out and taking Henry’s hand in his own, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, ‘It’s alright Henry, you can sit down. Can’t he, Mr. Blanky?’

Blanky grinned, a bright, sharp thing, and looked up at Henry. Broad shoulders covered by that big, dark, woolen coat; barrel stomach swelling gently under his thick, white jumper; liquid eyes shadowed by softly greying hair, curling sweetly over his face and joining with thick, dark whiskers over his jawline; a little pout of his upper lip that made something possessive in Blanky’s stomach clench. 

‘Aye, he can, lamb, but I think he’d best sit on the floor for now; bed’s only big enough for a couple of little fellas like ye and me, don’t ye reckon?’ Blanky chuckled as Henry started, looking a little wounded at his comment, ‘and besides, lamb, I’ve been wondering what yer fella here looks like on his knees…’

Harry inhaled sharply at that, shaking his head with a sweet little smile, and looking up at Henry, who was still frozen in place, ‘Do as Mr. Blanky says, darling, on your knees.’

Henry blinked, once, twice, before nodding, and sinking slowly to his knees. Blanky turned to Harry with a pleasantly surprised chuckle, ‘Got a bit of bite to ye, haven’t ye, lamb? Ordering this poor chap around like that?’

‘Oh but he likes it, sir, look at him…’ Harry smiled sweetly, gesturing at Henry where he knelt before the pair of them, head lowered, ‘and anyway, he asked that you and I be in charge of this little venture, didn’t you Henry?’

Henry nodded, his hair falling even further out of place, soft waves covering his face entirely from where Blanky and Harry were sat, ‘I did, sir.’

His voice was quiet, and low, and Blanky grinned down at him before grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking his head back so he could get a better look at his face. Henry whimpered, a gravelly, soft sound, and Blanky chuckled, ‘Ye like that, pet? Give me a yes or a no.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Henry breathed out, his eyes falling closed, a peaceful expression descending on his face.

‘If you pull right at the top of his head it makes his prick jump, sir,’ Harry piped up, leaning forwards to look at Henry with wide, curious eyes, ‘it’s quite fascinating, really.’

‘Oh does it, lamb?’ Blanky grinned, releasing Henry’s hair with a chuckle, ‘I’ll bear that in mind. Did ye bring what I told ye to?’

Harry nodded eagerly, reaching down into Henry’s coat and pulling out a vial of macassar oil, ‘Here, I don’t use it much, sir, so it won’t be missed.’

Blanky patted the lad’s leg with a fond smile, gesturing for him to come a little closer. Harry all but scurried over the small space between them, landing in Blanky’s lap with a soft _‘oof_ ’. He heard Henry shuffle a little behind Harry, and peered under the lad’s arm to have a look at him. Poor thing, he was halfway hard already by the looks of things (he’d heard about the size of him from McDonald, and he was eager to get a look for himself).

‘Turn ‘round, lamb, let’s not leave the poor lad out,’ Blanky murmured into Harry’s ear, nipping his earlobe as the slender man nodded and shuffled himself around.

Now, with his chest against Harry’s back, and the two lads facing one another, Blanky was ready to begin. 

‘Pop yer clothes off Mr. Collins, don’t get up, mind, keep yerself down there so we can have a good look, eh?’ Blanky nuzzled into Harry’s hair, nibbling gently at the sweet, bare patch of skin between his whiskers, his hairline, and his collar. 

Harry chuckled softly, and nodded, ‘I’d like that very much, sir.’

Blanky groaned, quietly as he could, as Harry began to rock himself back and forth in his lap, his arse rubbing tantalisingly at his prick - now starting to swell in its place. Henry shuffled around at his feet, awkwardly plucking off the layers and shoving them under the desk until he was kneeling in the altogether, his face a lovely shade of red.

Blanky let out a long, low wolf whistle as he ran his eyes over the man. He was even hairier than Harry, thickly muscled, broad as you like, with sloping shoulders and strong, twitching thighs that lead up to…

‘Bloody hell, lamb,’ Blanky breathed out, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder and looking up at him, ‘ye’ve taken that whole ruddy thing in ye?’

Henry stared at the floor as Blanky spoke, his blush deepening and kissing over his shoulders and chest as he waited for Harry’s response.

‘Oh yes, several times, in my cunt and in my arse, sir,’ Harry’s answer was so matter-of-fact that it made Blanky bark out a laugh.

‘Oh aye? Well good for ye, ye little devil,’ Blanky patted rested a hand on each of Harry’s thighs, squeezing gently, ‘and how was that for ye, Mr. Collins? Great bloody yard on ye, mustn’t have many lads bending over with much enthusiasm, eh?’

Henry looked up at him, and Blanky felt his heart ache at the soft, sad look in the man’s eyes, ‘Harry’s like a dream, sir.’

Blanky reached out carefully towards him, beckoning for Henry to come a little closer until his cheek was resting on Blanky’s palm, ‘I’ve said the same, pet, like a dream is our little lamb, eh?’

Harry laughed, softly, bashfully, and Blanky pressed a kiss to his shoulder, speaking gently to him, ‘And I’d reckon our Henry here is much the same, hm?’

‘Oh yes, sir, he’s perfect, sir,’ Harry reached out a hand as well, laying it over Blanky’s own and doubling over to press a kiss to Henry’s quivering lips, ‘just perfect in every way, I think.’

Blanky grinned, admiring the shape of Harry’s arse and the way Henry melted into his touch; McDonald had mentioned the big lad was having dark issues with his thoughts, and Blanky was only too happy to assist. Hardly any skin off his nose, was it? Making such a big, handsome lad feel a little better.

‘Oi, enough of that, ye cheeky bugger,’ Blanky spied Harry’s hand creeping down Henry’s chest, and wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him back upright and rumbling in his ear, ‘get yer kit off first, hm? Let me have a good look at ye both.’

Harry whimpered sweetly as Blanky tightened his grip around his neck and pressed his face into the lad’s curls, breathing in the soft, musky scent of him. Blanky grinned as Harry tried to nod, the lad’s soft ‘ _Yes sir_ ’ sending a twitch of desire to his prick. He released the young lad, shoving him gently off his lap and raking his eyes over Henry with a dirty grin.

Harry was fumbling quietly with his clothes as Blanky leaned forwards and grabbed Henry’s face in one hand, the big chap’s chin resting on the dip between his thumb and his index finger.

‘Such a handsome face on ye, pet,’ Blanky growled, yanking the lad’s face up and pressing a heated kiss to those sweet, chapped lips. Henry shuddered into it, mouth opening immediately and letting Blanky plunder it all he wanted. 

Blanky grinned into the kiss, reaching his free hand round to pull at the lad’s hair (at the top of his head, as Harry had told him) and growling as Henry whined into his mouth; the sound far higher than Blanky had expected from such a big man. 

‘Christ yer a loud one, aren’t ye Mr. Collins?’ Blanky grunted, biting down on his bottom lip and wringing out another one of those lovely, high whines, ‘how are we going to keep ye quiet when yer all covered in wax, with yer prick in our little lamb, eh?’

A twitching shiver raced through Henry’s body, and he jerked into Blanky’s grip, his eyes wide as Blanky pulled away from the kiss with a chuckle. Harry, who had shed his clothes, appeared at Henry’s side, tugging at the big man’s coat where it had been crumpled on the floor, and pulling out two thin, tapered, tallow candles. Blanky took in the entirety of the lad with a filthy grin; he was slight and slender, bless him, but he had a little swell to his hips that was absolutely charming; narrow shoulders traced down to the gentle roundness of his chest; soft, dark hair covering the lot of it; a slight roundness to his stomach that made Blanky smile (he didn’t do much in the way of physical work, did Harry). 

‘Good lad,’ Blanky winked, dragging his eyes up from the handsome shapes that made up Harry’s body and focussing on his lovely face, ‘now, we need to get him ready, I reckon.’

Harry cocked his head, looking up at Blanky with a sweet look of confusion on his face, ‘Sir?’

‘Ye’ve seen the amount of hair on him, haven’t ye lamb? Imagine getting wax in all o’ that! Bloody painful to get off, don’t ye think?’ Blanky stroked a thumb over Henry’s face as he spoke, though he was still directing his words to Harry, ‘the oil helps, lamb, makes it easier to clean him up after.’

Harry’s eyes widened with understanding, his mouth forming a little O between his whiskers, then twisting into a mischievous little grin, ‘I see, sir, so I need to oil him up, then?’

‘Aye, lamb, now get that oil on ye and give him a good rub down, eh?’ Blanky chuckled, holding Henry’s face gently, ‘get our lad nice and slick with it.’

Harry poured a generous helping of the oil onto his hand, a sweet, musky scent filling the room as he rubbed his palms together, warming it up, ‘Are you ready, darling?’ he murmured to Henry, shuffling forwards on his knees until his head was rested on the big man’s shoulder.

‘Ready, Harry,’ Henry smiled - Blanky’s heart sang a little at that, it was clear how much the lad loved Harry, and bless the pair of them for it.

Harry grinned up at Blanky, kissing Henry’s neck softly before beginning to rub the oil into him. Henry groaned quietly as Harry worked, his head falling forwards until his chin touched his chest, his breath heavy.

‘There’s a good lad, Mr. Collins, let our Harry get ye ready, such nimble hands on him, eh?’ Blanky chuckled, leaning down as best he could and biting gently at Henry’s mouth, thoroughly enjoying the soft pants and moans that came from the man as Harry massaged the oil into his back.

Harry smiled over Henry’s shoulder, his eyes twinkling, and Blanky raised an eyebrow in question at what the little devil was going to do. It only took a second, and a yelp from Henry, to understand, ‘Yer gettin’ his arse all covered as well, eh, lamb? Cheeky little bugger,’ he grinned at Harry, pleased with the lad’s way of thinking. 

‘I think he’s ready, sir,’ Harry said, a moment later, standing up and admiring his handiwork; Henry was shuddering where he knelt, his head twisting to look at Harry, then Blanky, with those lovely, dark eyes of his, bloody great prick now at full mast between his legs.

‘Aye, lamb?’ Blanky chuckled, ‘aye, I think he probably is, poor thing.’

Harry winked at him, and he shook his head with a laugh, gesturing for him to return to his place on his lap, ‘Good work, lamb, now sit yerself up here; let’s have yer Henry get ye nice and ready, hm? And pass me the matchbook on the desk there.’

Harry nodded, grabbing the matchbook and settling himself down on Blanky’s lap, facing Henry once again. Blanky raked his fingers down Harry’s back, chuckling as the lad wriggled, grinding his hips against Blanky’s prick.

‘Now, seen as he’s done such a good job of looking after ye, yer going to get our Harry ready, Mr. Collins, and he’s going to set to covering that lovely back and arse of yers good and proper with this wax, aye?’ Blanky shoved his head under Harry’s armpit, looking down at the man sternly, and swatting Harry (playfully) on the leg as he giggled. 

‘Mr. Collins!’ he barked, loud as he dared, when the man simply swayed - silent, staring at the two men in front of him - where he was, ‘is that acceptable to ye, lad?’

Henry blinked, his eyes torn up to meet Blanky’s gaze, ‘God - I’m sorry sir - yes sir - I’d like that very much, please…’

Blanky winked at him, reaching a hand down to stroke his whiskers, running his fingers through the coarse hair before resting them on the lad’s mouth, pressing ever so softly. Once again, Henry opened his mouth almost immediately, and Blanky chuckled, ‘Christ yer eager for somethin’ in yer mouth, aren’t ye? What do ye reckon, Harry, have got somethin’ to keep him busy?’

Harry breathed out softly, his hips rocking towards Henry’s face. Blanky removed his fingers from their place in Henry’s mouth, and traced a line up Harry’s cunt - God but he was soaked already. The lad jerked forwards at the contact, hips thrusting gently, a sweet friction on Blanky’s cockstand. 

‘I think so, sir. Come here, Henry - do as Mr. Blanky says,’ Harry murmured, holding his hands out and leaning back against Blanky’s chest, ‘get me ready, hm?’

Henry was on him in an instant, mouth latching onto Harry’s prick and sucking as if his life depended on it. Harry’s head fell back against Blanky’s shoulder, and Blanky groaned at the sight that met his eyes as he looked down the lad’s chest. 

Henry’s face was lost in the mess of curls between Harry’s legs, his eyes closed blissfully. Harry was breathing heavily already, hips rocking forwards against Henry before pressing back down on Blanky’s prick. 

Blanky curled an arm under each of the lad’s legs, and spread them open with a grunt, holding him firmly open as Henry buried himself in his cunt. Filthy, wet sounds filled the room as Henry took his fill, and Harry whimpered softly - such a sweet sound - a pretty blush covering him from cheek to prick. 

Blanky growled into his ear, gently thrusting up against his arse where he held it steady, not chasing a release yet, but enjoying the feeling nonetheless, ‘Christ but he’s a hard worker, isn’t he, lamb? Suckin’ ye like a starving man, can’t get enough of ye, can he?’ he rumbled into Harry’s ear, pulling his legs as far apart as they’d go and biting down firmly on the lad’s shoulder.

Harry gasped, shuddering, shaking. The sounds from his cunt and his prick in Henry’s mouth were louder now, slick and obscene, and Blanky doubled down with a snarl; biting - hard - into the meat of Harry’s shoulder and holding him steady as Henry worked.

It didn’t take long for Henry to lick Harry into a whining, shaking mess. The slippery flick of his tongue against Harry’s prick filled Blanky’s ears with an obscenely sweet clicking noise; doubled up with the filthy _squish_ of his fingers curling into the lad’s cunt.

Blanky grinned, feeling Harry lean into it, the tension in his thighs, the clench of his arse, the flex of his stomach building slowly, slowly, until, all of a sudden, there was no more space for it to build. 

Harry fell into his crisis with a high, keening whine: a shuddering, uncontrollable thing, sweet as summer, and Blanky clapped a hand over Harry’s mouth as he whimpered his way through it, his body twitching in his lap. 

God but they were lovely, desperate sounds; the lad panting like a pup as Henry lapped at him, not stopping his work until Blanky reached down and pulled him back by his hair (and it really _did_ make his prick jump, by the looks of things).

Harry shook in his lap, and Blanky hefted him up with a grunt, keeping him steady as he settled down. Henry stared up at him with dark, glassy eyes, whiskers slick with Harry’s spend, face red with exertion, and Blanky grinned down at him.

‘Oh ye _are_ a treasure, Mr. Collins,’ he stroked the lad’s hair gently as he spoke, ‘born for this, I reckon.’ Blanky paused, kissing Harry’s shoulder, licking gently at the deep, red bite mark with a grumbling laugh, ‘And it’s a good thing too, hm, ‘cause yer far from finished; I want him good and ready for that great bloody cockstand o’ yers, aye?’

Henry nodded, eagerly, his mouth hanging open and giving him the appearance of a sheepdog - desperate to please.

‘Ye got a few more o’ those in ye, eh lamb?’ Blanky growled, nipping at Harry’s earlobe.

‘ _Oh…_ ’ Harry sighed out, bending at the waist, kissing Henry soundly, licking at the spend that coated his cheeks and whiskers, ‘oh I think so, sir.’

‘Good lad, now I’m goin’ to need ye to hold this, ‘right?’ Blanky grabbed one of Harry’s hands and pressed a candle into it, ‘keep it steady while I light it, lamb, or we’ll have this whole bloody ship up in smoke, and I don’t much fancy explaining to Frank why we’re all freezing our bollocks off out in the snow, or burnt to a crisp, hm?’

Harry nodded eagerly, curls bobbing with the movement, and steadied himself on Blanky’s lap, holding the candle upright and still. Blanky lit the candle with a flourish, and a wink to Henry, who was staring up at them both intently, the flame springing up wild - dancing in his eyes. 

‘Hold yer arm out carefully, lamb, and try not to drip any of it in the lad’s hair - it’ll be a right pain in the arse to get out,’ Blanky took hold of Harry’s arm and straightened it until the candle was well past Henry’s head and neck, now directing his instructions to Henry, ‘now, sweetheart, yer goin’ to get back to work on our little lamb, and yer not to stop ‘til I tell ye, understand? And if it all gets too much ye tap three times on my boot, aye?’

Henry nodded up at him, his face set in a serious, attentive expression.

‘Good,’ Blanky grinned down at him, nipping Harry’s shoulder with a filthy chuckle, ‘well, now, get on with it, Mr. Collins, we ain’t got all night.’

Henry nodded, again, closing his eyes and burying his face in Harry’s cunt with a soft moan. Harry bucked against him, whining sweetly, but he kept his hand steady as instructed. Blanky rested his head on his shoulder, so his mouth was close enough to whisper to Harry without alerting Henry.

‘Now, lamb, y’see how the wax is pooling there?’ Blanky pointed to where the wick met the slowly melting tallow.

Harry nodded, carefully, not disturbing the wax.

‘Good, now yer goin’ to angle the candle so the tip is over Henry’s back, hm? Gentle, like, no need to pour it over him all at once, there’s a good lad.’

Blanky grinned his approval as Harry - slowly, carefully - tipped the candle. A slow, thick stream of wax fell from the tip of it, dripping onto the centre of Henry’s back.

Henry groaned, exhaling sharply, against Harry’s cunt, his back and shoulders twitching as the wax dripped over him, but not stopping. Blanky patted his head gently for that, ‘Good lad.’

While he couldn’t see what the lad’s tongue was doing, he could sure as hell feel the effect it was having on the lad in his lap. Harry whimpered sweetly, writhing where he sat, and Blanky pressed his thighs down against his own, keeping them spread and steady with a growl.

‘Hold it steady, lamb, don’t want ye spilling all at once, eh?’ 

Harry breathed out a laugh, and Blanky grinned as he felt the lad’s body tense with the effort of staying still. 

‘Good lad, now, move it around a little, hm? Want to get him nice and dirty with it, don’t we?’

Henry moaned against Harry as another stream of wax fell onto his back, dripping steadily now the candle was well warmed up, and Harry moaned in turn. 

God but it was a lovely thing to behold; Harry would tilt the candle, and it would drip onto Henry, then Henry would press his face further into Harry’s cunt, sucking harder at his prick; more wax would fall, and the cycle began again. 

‘Try moving it a little further back, lamb, get his arse nice and covered as well, eh?’ Blanky rumbled into Harry’s ear, thoroughly enjoying the view that Henry presented at their feet.

His face was entirely hidden, now, unruly, greying curls falling to meet the dark, thick curls between Harry’s legs, shrouding him as he licked and sucked Harry to distraction. Harry, bless him, was thrusting softly into Henry’s mouth; little, muted whimpers spilling from his lips, his thighs shaking in Blanky’s lap as he tried his best to keep steady. 

Harry was close to another release - the taut, hard feel of his muscles showed that well enough - and as the wax dripped over Henry’s arse he felt the lad in his lap stiffen, a string of sweet little whimpers falling from his mouth, his hips grinding between Blanky and Henry as he rode out his second crisis.

Henry groaned, loudly, rubbing his head against Harry’s cunt like a big, gentle pup; working him through his release and not stopping when Harry began to twitch - a gently galvanised thing - and whine with what Blanky imagined was an entirely overwhelming sensation. Blanky grinned, looking down at Henry, pleased that he was continuing his work; he could just about see where the wax had fallen - thick, white lines following the curve of the lad’s back as he arched against the warmth, trickling thickly over the swell of his arse and disappearing into the crack of it. 

‘I think he likes that, lamb…’ Blanky chuckled, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist, ‘go on, give him a little more, eh? He’s doin’ such a fine job with ye, opening ye up and makin’ ye all hard and wet for him, hm?’

Harry whined - clearly Henry had reacted nicely to the praise (Blanky made a mental note of that) - and tipped the candle until it was almost vertical. He held it gently at the base, between the tips of his fingers, and the flame danced up the neck of the candle, curling up and melting more of the tallow. 

‘Hold it steady lamb - nice and steady - get him good and hot with it…’ Blanky’s eyes were on the flame now; as much as he hated to look away from where Henry’s head was buried in Harry’s cunt, he was more concerned for Harry’s fingertips if the flame leapt too high.

He chuckled, softly, as Harry’s thighs clenched and unclenched in his lap, ‘How does he feel, lamb? Is he doin’ a good job for ye?’

Harry nodded, shaking, grinding his arse into Blanky’s lap, ‘ _God, sir_ \- God his tongue, sir, it’s like heaven - God he’s so good, sir - you’re so good, Henry, dear Henry, _oh Christ…_ ’ Harry went rigid with another release, slick, wet slurping sounds ricocheting ‘round the room as Henry worked his mouth over him.

Blanky breathed heavily against Harry’s neck, thrusting carefully up against him, grinding his prick against his arse as the lad’s third crisis flew through him, whispering filth into his ear as he came down from it, ‘Look at ye, lamb - such dirty little thing aren’t ye - sitting on my prick like this, workin’ me up as yer fella sucks on yer cock - gets you all wet for that huge bloody thing he’s got between his legs - he’s aching for ye, y’know, wants to get his cock in that sopping wet cunny o’ yers - poor, sweet little thing that he is...’

Harry whined, the candle shaking between his fingers, the flame now dancing dangerously up the shrinking stem of it; Henry’s tongue sped up at his prick and his cunt, licking him quicker and quicker as Blanky spoke, working him towards yet another release.

‘Get him good and covered in it pet, looks just like spunk in this light, y’know? Got yer seed all over his back and all down his arse already - _oh_ such a lovely little thing aren’t ye - gettin’ him all good an’ messy - doin’ just as I tell ye,’ Blanky eyed the candle closely, and plucked it from Harry’s fingers as the lad yelped - arching his back as Henry enthusiastically wrung another crisis from him, groaning between Harry’s legs as the lad grabbed at his hair (Blanky couldn’t tell if he was pulling him away or dragging him closer, bless him) - and the flame flickered a little too close to his fingertips.

Blanky blew the candle out with a grin, tossing the stump of it into the cup of water he’d set by his bed (just in case). He rubbed his hands gently up and down Harry’s thighs, gentling him, ‘There ye go, lamb - there ye go - such a good lad for me aren’t ye? Such a good pet…’

Harry sighed against him, his head falling back against Blanky’s shoulder with a shaky whimper. Blanky grabbed his face carefully, twisting it so he could crush their lips together and lick the noises out of the lad. He reached around Harry as he kissed him, spreading his cunt open with a steady hand and grunting when he felt Henry’s tongue flick over his fingers.

‘Christ alive, lad,’ Blanky pulled away from Harry’s mouth and stared down at Henry with a grin, ‘yer an eager little cocksucker aren’t ye, I’m hardly wet with our little lamb’s cunt and yer tongue’s already all over me, eh?’

Henry moaned, tilting his head up and gazing up at Harry and Blanky with wide, adoring, begging eyes. His mouth didn’t stop, didn’t slow, tongue slipping over Harry’s cockstand and Blanky’s fingers, dipping into Harry’s cunt, pulling more of those soft, panting whimpers out of Harry. 

‘Ye think ye’ve got one more in ye, lamb? Reckon ye can come once more for me and Mr. Collins?’ Blanky growled, pulling Harry’s cunt open as the lad nodded - panting, sweating, exhausted, and grinning like a man possessed - and hiked his free arm under one of Harry’s thighs, spreading him out and playing his fingers over his prick, ‘c’mon, lamb, one more for me and Henry, one more for now - c’mon sweet’eart…’

Blanky pinched at the base of Harry’s prick, teasing it out of its hood and pressing it against Henry’s tongue, frigging it firmly as the lad bucked and jerked in his arms; legs and stomach trembling; head leaning against Blanky’s shoulder and mouth hanging open; letting out a string of soft, sweet moans as Blanky and Henry worked seamlessly to wrench another bright, shuddering, whining crisis from him. 

Blanky wrapped both arms around Harry’s chest, keeping him steady, holding him tight, as Henry licked him through it, tongue not stopping its work until Blanky reached down and pulled his head back with a growl, giving his best wide, wolfish grin as the lad stared up at him. God but he was a sight, face all slick with Harry’s spend, whiskers matted, cheeks red as you like, eyes glazed and glassy as he swayed where he knelt.

Blanky stroked a fingertip down the lad’s face, tracing a line through the slick and sweat with a chuckle, ‘Oh ye’ve made a proper mess of the poor thing, just look at him - c’mon and look at him, lamb, look what ye’ve done to our Henry.’

Harry shivered in Blanky’s arms, his head flopping down so his chin was at his chest, and moaned brokenly as he raked his eyes over Henry; his voice was high and shaky as he breathed out, ‘Henry - _God, Henry_ \- darling, darling Henry, come here - come here - kiss me, _good Christ_ , kiss me, Henry…’

Henry looked up at Blanky, questioning, and Blanky nodded with a wink, ‘Do as he says, pet, give him a kiss, eh?’

As soon as the words left Blanky’s mouth, Henry surged up to his feet and crushed his mouth against Harry’s. Blanky chuckled, letting Harry be pushed back as Henry wrapped his arms around him, and let out an _‘oof’_ as he was pushed back in turn, resting against the bed with a raucous laugh. 

‘Easy does it lad!’ Blanky grinned, closing his eyes with a breathy laugh as Henry moved to kiss him as well, lips still slick with Harry’s spend, salt-sweet-musk bursting onto Blanky’s tongue; a mind-numbing delicacy. 

Henry, seemingly satisfied with the mess he’d made of Blanky and Harry, pulled back with a small, shy grin. Blanky met him with a grin of his own, filthy and sharp, ‘Turn ‘round, then, Mr. Collins, let’s have a look at ye before we light ourselves ‘nother candle.’

Henry’s grin widened - a sweet, soft thing - and he turned obediently, head lowered, presenting himself to Harry and Blanky.

‘ _Oh, Henry_ …’ Harry breathed, reaching out and pressing a finger into the thick, slowly hardening wax that coated his back and his arse, ‘ _oh_ you look beautiful…’

Henry flinched at the compliment, but said nothing; staying still, letting Harry clamber off Blanky’s lap on shaky legs and press at the wax with careful, curious fingers. Blanky propped himself up on his elbows, watching Harry explore with an indulgent smile. He was such a sweet little thing, all probing fingers and wide, fascinated eyes.

Blanky chuckled as Harry’s hands journeyed downwards, pressing a slender handprint into Henry’s arse, ‘Looks like he’s marked ye good an’ proper now, Mr. Collins, big handsome thing that ye are.’

Henry flinched again, but the movement was less pronounced this time around, and Blanky smiled to himself; hopefully they’d cure the lad’s fear of compliments some time soon - he intended to have his fill of him one day, before the ice enveloped the lot of them, and he wanted to fill the lad’s ears with praise as he had him. 

‘You look lovely like this, Henry, really you do,’ Harry reached up and kissed Henry’s shoulder where it was bare of wax.

‘Aye, ye do at that, Mr. Collins, but we’re not finished with ye yet, are we lamb?’ Blanky winked at Harry, whose eyes twinkled in response, ‘grab that sheet, pet,’ Blanky pointed at the spare bedsheet he’d squirreled away from Frank’s quarters, ‘and pop it on the floor, then I’m goin’ to need ye to lie on yer back with yer head at my feet, Mr. Collins, there’s a lad.’

Both lads did as they were told, shuffling ‘round each other and laughing softly until Henry was on his back on the sheet, and Harry was kneeling next to him; both men looking expectantly up at Blanky.

Blanky chuckled to look at them, ‘Eager as pups, the pair o’ ye! Get him good and oiled up again, Harry, all over his chest and that lovely belly of his, don’t want us to tear any o’ that hair off when we clean him up, do we?’

Harry nodded sombrely, his eyes gleaming in the lamplight, and caught the oil as Blanky tossed it over to him. He poured it straight onto Henry, this time, and Blanky let out a soft bark of laughter as the big man gasped; the oil must be colder than he’d expected, poor thing. 

Harry leaned over, pressing a kiss to Henry’s cheek and murmuring a cheeky apology in his ear. He rubbed the oil firmly over Henry, massaging his chest; pinching his nipples firmly (Henry whimpered at this, arching his back into the sensation; Harry laughed - a sweet, light peal of a bell); kneading that round, firm, thickly-furred belly until Henry was wriggling where he lay - prick twitching when Harry’s hands brushed over his pubic hair and tugged gently.

Blanky watched, enraptured, as Harry worked - enjoying the sight of how malleable Henry’s body became under his hands, thick hair matting down sweetly with the fragrant oil. He would have happily watched this for an age, but there was still a candle to use, ‘til their night would be done.

‘I think that’ll do him, pet, else he’ll spend all over ‘imself ‘fore you’ve got a chance to sit on his cock. C’mere, and light up that candle, eh, there’s a good lamb?’

Harry smiled softly, wiping his hands on the sheet underneath Henry, and shuffling over to rest at Blanky’s feet. He struck a match quickly, lighting another of the tallow candles with an attentive set to his lovely, sweat-shined face. 

‘Ye alright down there Mr. Collins?’ Blanky grinned leaning on his knees and looking at Henry, who gazed up at him with a soft, calm expression, smiling crookedly and nodding.

‘Yes sir,’ he murmured, the smile sweetly settling into the lines of his face, ‘more than alright; I think I’m floating, sir.’

‘Oh bless ye lad,’ Blanky rubbed the side of his good foot along the man’s shoulder, shaking his head fondly as he raked his eyes down that big, broad chest and belly until they were fixed on the eye-wateringly thick, still-straining length of his prick, ‘hard as nails, aren’t ye? D’ye think we might be able to do somethin’ about that, Harry?’

Harry grinned, holding the candle gingerly in one hand and nodding, ‘Oh I certainly think so, Mr. Blanky.’

‘Good lad,’ Blanky leaned down and pressed his lips to Harry’s, growling softly into the kiss as the lad bit down on his bottom lip, a jerk of lust shooting through his prick. He’d all but forgotten the bloody thing; too focussed on keeping the two lads at his feet safe and satisfied. 

He pressed his hand at the front of his trousers as he licked into Harry’s mouth, sucking firmly on his tongue; grunting as Harry moved his hand to replace his own, pressing down confidently and rubbing small circles against his cockstand and cunt. 

Blanky grinned down at him, breathing out a sigh and letting himself grind up against it for just a moment, ‘ _Ahh_ , there ye are, lamb - pass us the candle for a second, and hop up on Mr. Collins now - get yerself nice and full of that huge bloody prick - work yerself down on him and give us a good show, eh?’

Harry nodded eagerly, handing Blanky the candle and crawling down Henry’s body, wiggling his arse with a soft laugh - so nearly a giggle - and leaning down to lick Henry’s prick as he went. Henry groaned at the contact, his prick jumping, hips twitching, and Harry lowered his head down to take the thing in his mouth, turning so his eyes met Blanky’s as he swallowed him down as best he could, sucking softly on Henry until the big lad was shivering beneath him.

Blanky winked at Harry as he swallowed Henry down halfway - throat visibly contracting around the thick, heavily veined prick in his mouth - and tipped the candle over Henry’s chest, dripping the melting tallow over him. 

Henry shuddered as the wax hit well-oiled skin, pooling over his breastbone, setting slowly. Harry’s eyes were fixed on Blanky, watering slightly with the effort of taking Henry in his mouth - Christ but it was stretched wide ‘round the man’s prick, slick with spit and precum. 

Blanky tipped the candle again, tracing wide, easy circles ‘round Henry’s nipples and letting out a deep, rumbling chuckle as he let the wax fall over one sensitive little bud, then another, and Henry whined sweetly, biting down on his lip and staring up at Blanky with pleading, dark eyes. 

‘Stop teasing the poor lad, Harry, sit yerself down on him ‘fore he explodes, aye?’ Blanky chided, without a hint of sincerity.

Harry pulled off of Henry with a slick, satisfying _pop_ , grinning sloppily up at Blanky, and then at Henry, shuffling up and throwing a leg over Henry with a sweet sigh. 

‘Ready, darling?’ Harry whispered, teasing, looking down at Henry. 

Henry nodded, lips speechless and wide open as Harry positioned himself over his prick. Blanky watched, near-awestruck, as Harry set to rolling the mouth of his cunt over the wide, flared head of it, slick, wet squelching noises coming from where it rubbed over his folds. Henry’s fists were balled up at his sides, knuckles white with the effort of staying still.

Harry fixed his eyes on Blanky; cheeks flushed and shining, whiskers slick with sweat against his face, mouth open in a lovely little O. 

‘ _Ye Gods_ yer a beauty, lamb, finest thing I’ve ever seen - cunt swallowin’ our Henry down like that,’ Blanky rumbled, unbuttoning his trousers carefully (finally, _finally_ ) - still mindful of the candle in his hand - and hooking his fingers into his cunt, rubbing his thumb over his prick, unhurried; taking in the feast before him.

Harry whimpered softly, rubbing himself down over Henry’s crown again, and again, and letting out a high, delicious whine as it pressed inside him, leaning his head forward until it bumped against his chest, breathing heavily. 

Blanky growled, baring his teeth in a hungry grin, as he watched Harry push himself further and further down on Henry’s prick; filling himself further than Blanky thought possible, whimpering lasciviously as he went, panting, whining, until his hips hit Henry’s. Henry shuddered, moving his hands to grip roughly at Harry’s shaking thighs, and let out a low, rough growl as Blanky (not to be left out, as much as he was enjoying the show) let a thick stream of wax drip over his nipples - coating the muscles of his chest with thick, white tallow, angling it forwards so a good amount covered his belly as well. 

Blanky grinned at Harry as he worked with the candle, letting his eyes run over the lad’s shivering body; starving, wolfish, his voice thickening as he spoke, ‘ _Fuck me_ but yer a sight, lamb - stuffed full wi’ tha’ prick aren’t ye, right up to yer teeth with it - drippin’ all over him - prettiest fuckin’ thing in the world…’

Harry was rocking himself back and forth on Henry’s prick as Blanky spoke, tiny, twitching movements that were making Henry fall to pieces beneath him.

‘Yer doin’ a pretty fuckin’ job on tha’ prick, lamb, but I’m goin’ to ask a little more of ye, aye? Only a little.’

Harry opened his eyes, staring at Blanky and nodding, his face soft and open as he fucked himself onto Henry, ‘ _Oh_ _aye_ \- _oh_ anythin’, sir, I’ll do anythin’ - _ahh_ ,’ the Scotch washed into his voice like a summer tide, and Blanky smiled fondly at him; enjoying the slurring sweetness of it.

Harry panted softly, awaiting Blanky’s instructions, and widening his eyes, not having a moment to respond as Blanky leaned forwards with a growl, and dragged his head into his lap. He let out a lovely little groan as Blanky positioned him; shoving the wet heat of his mouth against his cockstand and his cunt and thrusting up into it.

Blanky exhaled loudly, grunting as Harry’s began to suck at his prick, ‘ _Ohh_ there ye go, sweet’eart - sweet fuckin’ lad - there ye are - perfect little mouth on ye - there ye go - suck on me like tha’ love, jus’ like tha’.’

Blanky angled the candle up over Harry’s back, and tilted it down with a grin, holding Harry steadily against his prick and thrusting into his mouth; muffling the whimpers as the wax dripped down the narrow lines of his shoulders, coming to a pretty little pool in the dimples above his arse. 

Henry groaned from his place between Blanky’s feet, and Harry whimpered sweetly against Blanky’s cock. Blanky, firmly rutting up into Harry’s mouth, set to dripping the wax down the lad’s back, letting loose patterns and lines fall over smooth skin, relishing every whine and moan it pulled from Harry - each one vibrating against his cunt, each one sending hot, burning arrows through his spine to settle at the base of his skull and the base of his prick. 

‘Good lad - _oh God_ \- such a good little lamb for me, aren’t ye - mouth like sin, pet - hot and wet as ye like, fucking _Christ_ ,’ Blanky groaned, deep in his chest, as Harry’s lips fastened around the slippery shape of his prick and _sucked_ ; filling the room with the noise of his slurping and suckling; coupled with those slick, wet sounds as he fucked himself hard and fast on Henry’s prick.

Henry was chanting both of their names like a prayer, now, breathless _Harry’_ s and _Tom’_ s gliding up to Blanky’s ears - as if filtered through a thick fog - and Blanky pressed his foot to the lad’s shoulder, holding him as steady as he could, grounding him as best he could. 

Blanky swore, louder than he would’ve liked, as Harry jammed his hand between their bodies and shoved two fingers into his cunt, ‘ _Jesus fuckin’ Christ,_ lad! _Jesus - God_ \- yer a fuckin’ devil - _go on_ , lamb, fuck me on yer fingers, jus’ like tha’ - ‘ard as ye like - c’mon, lamb - jus’ there - jus’ like tha’.’

Blanky ground his mouth up into Harry’s mouth, fucking himself down on the lad’s fingers with a growl, tilting the candle near-vertically and letting the wax fall in hot, sticky lines over his back. Harry all but screamed against his cunt; fucking himself wildly on Henry’s prick, and Henry groaned loudly from somewhere far away, the slap of skin against skin and the slick sounds of Harry’s mouth and cunt echoing ‘round Blanky’s head.

Blanky could feel his crisis smouldering at the base of his spine, crawling it’s way closer, and closer towards his cunt and his cock. He blew out the candle with a grin, throwing it to the ground without a care and grabbing Harry’s head with both hands, fucking himself against his mouth and onto his fingers.

Blanky could see the lad’s spine arch as he fucked himself onto Henry, and he bared his teeth, panting heavily, as he saw Henry’s legs curl up under the swell of Harry’s arse. The slap of Henry’s bollocks against Harry’s arse grew even louder as Henry began to fuck up into his cunt with abandon. 

Blanky grinned as Harry wailed against his prick; his release suddenly tearing through him like a storm - thrashing between Henry and Blanky, body going rigid then limp in turn as the two men fucked him through it. Blanky let himself fall back on the bed, giving himself over to the feel of it all as he heard Henry shout out his crisis, filling Harry’s cunt with his spend. Blanky’s entire body was flickering - smouldering sparks jumping and twitching - as Harry fucked him (wet, sloppy, perfect as sin) until his release leapt forwards, flamelike and fierce, from its resting place and ripped him apart.

Blanky shoved his prick against Harry’s face, fucking against him madly as his vision went black and his body went rigid; his crisis arching through him with a force he thought he’d forgotten - shuddering, shining, agonising, all-encompassing. He fell - for seconds, minutes, hours, days? - barely aware of his surroundings, basking in the blinding warmth of it and slipping into the flames with a fucked-out grin.

* * *

‘Sir?’

‘Sir? Mr. Blanky, sir?’

Blanky blinked, spots wheeling behind his eyes, as he heard the quiet, concerned voices. He reached up, rubbing his eyes ‘til the spots disappeared, and grinned up at Harry and Henry, who were leaning over him; twin looks of concern colouring their flushed, handsome faces. 

‘Ye’ve killed me, lads,’ he rumbled out, slowly pushing himself up onto his elbows, and shaking his head, ‘I’m a dead man, I’ll ne’er recover.’

Harry punched him on the arm, beaming, before shoving him back against the bed and kissing him soundly, sucking at Blanky’s tongue and bottom lip before pulling off with a laugh, ‘D’you hear that, Henry? We’ve killed a senior officer, we’ll be lashed for sure.’ 

Blanky felt the mattress give a little beside him, and turned his head to see Henry - flushed and sheepish - leaning down next to him, ‘He looks alright, Harry, for a dead man at least.’

‘Oi!’ Blanky protested, wrapping his arms ‘round the lad’s neck and dragging him into a sloppy kiss, ‘the cheek of ye, pet! Y’know, I can’t believe it, Harry, he’s usually such a sweet little thing.’

Henry laughed softly, grinning over at Harry, who was curled up at the end of the bed like a particularly satisfied house cat, ‘I’ll be as sweet as you like, Mr. Blanky,’ he murmured, nuzzling against Blanky’s neck, ‘all you need do is ask.’

Blanky huffed, grinning into Henry’s hair, ‘Aye, I’ll hold ye to that, _Mister_ Collins - and ye can start by helpin’ an old idiot onto that sheet on the floor, so he can cuddle the two bastards that killed him dead, _without_ ruinin’ his bed.’


End file.
